


Darkness of Hell and of a night deprived

by siluria



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-14
Updated: 2011-11-14
Packaged: 2017-10-26 02:14:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/277491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siluria/pseuds/siluria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When something goes wrong with the transport, McCoy finds himself alone in a wasteland far removed from his intended destination; only he's not as alone as he thinks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Darkness of Hell and of a night deprived

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Jim&Bones Vampire Challenge, although this isn't a traditional vampire tale.

_Lonely is the night when you find yourself alone. Your demons come to light and your mind is not your own_

Bones always closes his eyes during transport, can’t think of any possible reason why anyone would want to watch as they’re broken down into component atoms. He’s far happier closing his eyes on the _Enterprise_ and opening them to something, some _where_ , new without seeing his life fade away in front of him.

He’s kinda proud of himself for how he can just close his eyes normally now, not clench them shut until he’s in danger of shattering his orbital bones from the need to not be doing this. Halcyon III, to all intents and purposes, should be lush with fields of green and basked in warmth like a Georgia sunset. The signs of wildlife set the sensors alight like a Christmas tree, and Spock’s convinced none of it is sentient enough to strike up a conversation, let alone point a weapon in their faces. He’s pretty sure that’s the only reason Jim’s letting him tag along, especially after the last landing party he was on didn’t come back whole. It took him far too long to convince Jim that a bit of sun and outdoors life would be good for him, the doctor prescribing his own medicine for once. He just wishes it didn’t come at the price of a transporter trip.

His eyes slide shut at Jim’s call to _energize_ , but when he senses the transport is complete he can’t feel grass under his feet nor warm sun on his face. His boots shift on uneven rocks as he tenses, and even behind closed eyelids he can sense darkness rather than light, feel the chill of a breeze that seems like it’s wrapping itself around him before flowing onwards.

It’s the nudge against his arm that makes his eyes snap open. It hadn’t felt like a hand, or the jab of Jim’s elbow that usually lets him know that the transport is over. It felt like fire, a brand across his skin and his first instinct is to move his arm to check. He finds nothing, but can still feel the ghost of heat when he lays his hand on the fabric covering his bicep. His second look becomes long and desperate as he realizes that he’s alone. No Jim, no Sulu, no security officers. Just him, and a landscape that’s as far removed from the sensor images as it could get.

The earth is scarred, dry and lifeless, with evidence of battles that had raged violently so long ago. Craters are dotted haphazardly as far as he can see, which isn’t as far as he’d like, but is far enough for a vista such as this. What little light there is glows red like the dying embers of fires, but it’s not from a moon, or a setting sun, it seems to shimmer all around like the landscape and sky have been brushed over with iridescent paint.

The earth is burnt as black as night around those craters, but he can’t see any evidence of what they were trying to obliterate, no shards of twisted metal, no shattered fragments of rock or wood that would suggest the target once housed the living. For a second he wonders if he’s wandered onto a weapons testing ground, a planet blown apart by scientists and soldiers looking for the best ways to kill. That shouldn’t be his first worry though, that should be about where the hell everyone has gone… or where the hell he’s ended up that his crewmates haven’t.

He fumbles for the communicator on his belt, but no matter how many times he says it, or how desperate his words become, the people on the other side remain silent. There’s no response from the ship, no response from the landing party, and Bones will freely admit that panic is setting in. There’s a ridge just behind him and he stumbles over the loose rocks as he aims for the top.

There’s no change in the view; just miles of broken landscape fading into the darkness that drapes over it. He’s glad for the blackness, because he’s pretty certain there’ll be nothing he wants to see out there.

The wind picks up again as he stands there, warmer this time, and he shuffles back from the edge as it begins to howl and scream around him, a sound as pained as the land. He’s lost. No idea where he is, no contact with anyone, and for the first time he feels completely helpless. Survival training beats it into you to find shelter, water and food. There’s none of that here. Nothing to burn to draw the attention of sensors or search parties, and with the blanket of red he doubts even using his phaser to heat the rocks would be seen by the ship. All he can hope is that the energy signatures from his comm and the med scanners hidden away in the fabric of his uniform will be enough for the _Enterprise_ … for _Jim_ , to find him.

The only sound is from the wind that buffets and coils around him, but the hairs at the back of his neck let him know that he isn’t alone anymore. It’s a feeling he can’t find any evidence for when he turns and tries to find its source, and he thinks he might just be going mad until he feels a buildup of heat in front of him that gets hotter as the wind that had been blanketing him swirls and disperses. He wishes he could vanish with the wind when the heat shimmers the air, turning it to flame, the flame coalescing into something vaguely humanoid.

Bones can’t clamp down on the thought that he’s literally in Hell, coming face-to-face with history’s effigy of the Devil. _Damn transporters_. He wonders if he’ll ever get the chance to tell Jim ‘I told you so’. He’d run, but there’s nowhere to run to. His hand goes to his phaser anyway, the instinct of a soldier he doesn’t often let himself become. He can’t heal this, can’t heal _himself_ if he truly is dead, so he’ll go down fighting. People don’t call him a stubborn bastard for nothing.

He’s barely got his phaser raised and ready to fire when the silence is broken by the sound of laughter. It’s sharp, gritty, and the noise scrapes over his eardrums. He figures it’s coming from whatever is stood in front of him, but if he was relying on his sense of hearing alone, he’d swear the sound emanated from all around. His finger twitches against the trigger of the phaser, but he stays his hand. Even if his aim doesn’t waver, at this point he’s not even sure it will do any good.

That humanoid shape in the flames tightens, the blurred edges sharpening until they’re more defined. Black spots appear amidst the flames and Bones watches in quiet horror as blackened skin forms like a thin crust of lava rock, not even sufficient to hide the molten fire burning underneath it. Its face is featureless. There are no eyes in its head to watch him, but he knows he’s being assessed, measured. The laughter continues, but there’s no mouth to voice it, and he’s beginning to wonder how much of this is in his head. But then there’s a headache building behind his eyes all of a sudden, that much is real, even if what he’s imagining isn’t.

The laughter turns into words as the featureless face tips towards him. There’s no mouth to move, but that seems irrelevant when he can feel the words in his head as they vibrate with the deep timbre. Maybe it’s his subconscious interpreting what he can see into what he can feel, but those words seem to burn a path through his head, and he wants nothing more than for it to stop. The voice talks of being alone, that it has been so long since someone has been near that it now has nothing left to draw strength from, no lives to consume - until now. Now, it has _him_ … it has an entire ship, it suddenly realizes. Enough to give it the strength to leave here.

Bones knows that information came from him, and he tries to clamp down on his thoughts, anything but think of the people he could be giving up to the same fate as himself. There’s the metallic scent, the familiar tickle just moments before the first splash of blood drips from his nose onto his uniform shirt. For a brief moment he thinks he can hear Jim’s voice, but he knows that’s an illusion, a trick to make him reach out and give up his crew. He shuts down his thoughts, tries not to think of anything but what he can see in front of him, and the ridge he’s started to slowly back up towards.

A memory is dragged to the front of his mind, of Jim, of that first shuttle ride out of Iowa. The memory comes with some relief from the pain, and he reaches out for the warmth of that moment. He can see himself in his memory raising a hand to caress Jim’s cheek, a brilliant smile breaks across his friend’s face before he leans in to kiss him. He feels the caress of Jim’s tongue against his lips and smiles at the familiarity of it.

And then, he realizes, this isn’t his memory. Their first meeting didn’t go like that. And even if the taste of Jim’s lips is just as he remembers and his eyes shine with the same intensity, he knows that this moment didn’t happen like that. The ‘memory’ fades into the day the _Enterprise_ shipped out with her new Captain and crew, the clap of Jim’s hand on his shoulder as he passes to take his seat. The thought flickers, fading out and back in again to that first night when they christened the Captain’s quarters. Memories of what he felt that night send a shiver of lust down his spine. This shouldn’t be on his mind right now, not with what he’s facing… _this_ is what this thing wants from him, memories, thoughts, feelings, something it can feed on. When the first images of home, of Georgia, start to flicker brightly in his mind he shakes his head and slams his eyes shut.

Not there. He’s not giving up Jim, nor his ship, and he’s definitely not giving up his planet.

He struggles to fight against the memories, forcing himself to think of nothing but blackness. He can feel the tug of war in his head, and images and moments of history fade in and out, ebb and flow. He has no idea who has the greatest will to win. Whether _its_ fight for survival will win over _his_ determination to save others…

There’s a scream. Inhuman. Primal. It’s one that echoes with frustration and desperation when it must realize that Bones isn’t going to hand it what it wants so easily. But the pain in his head is growing and Bones thinks he might just give up everything if only to make it stop.

He’s forgotten that he’s been forcing himself to move, until he has to pause as the uneven surface gives way under the heel of his boot. He can hear the stones rattling down the slope on the other side of the ridge he’s now balanced on. If he gives in, just sinks to his knees under the pain, or the anguish from defeat, he’ll go over anyway. He doesn’t want to look back to see if what’s there is better than here, because he doesn’t think it could be worse.

He tastes blood in his mouth, not certain anymore if it’s just from his nose. His body aches, burning from within like the thing in front of him. A blackened arm reaches out to him, and Bones can feel the fire burning the skin on his arm from the proximity. He has to get away. He steps back into nothing as his finger tightens on the trigger of the phaser.

It screams.

He wishes he could too.

“Bones!”

He’s choking from the blood rushing down his throat, but then there are cool hands easing him onto his side. He coughs until his eyes stream, and his lungs burn from lack of oxygen. Then there’s one breath, two, and he’s gulping in cool air that doesn’t carry the bite of smoke or the taste of a scorched land.

There’s the sound of alarms screaming a syncopated warning, and the solid pressure of a hand rubbing circles on his back. When he blinks open watering eyes it’s not a blackened planet in front of him, nor a fiery demon, just his sickbay. It’s not scorched grit under his cheek but the scratch of the clinical fabric that covers the biobeds. It takes so much effort, but he manages to raise a shaking hand and swipes the back of it across his mouth, unsurprised to see blood when he pulls it back.

Jim dips into view, worry clear in his eyes, but when he reaches out a hand Bones can’t help but jerk backwards. It takes him a while to blink away the sight of a blackened arm reaching for him, and instead see the clean, tanned hand hovering in front of him still, mere inches from touching. Bones turns his aching head into the pillow beneath him and releases a long shaky breath before trying to swallow back the taste of bile and the tang of iron. He sighs out Jim’s name with his next breath, and feels the hand rest tentatively against his cheek. When he doesn’t tense or flinch, he feels Jim’s thumb brush softly across his cheekbone, a comfort and a feeling of _safe_ that lets his eyes slip shut.

There are muttered words over his shoulder that he ignores, figuring that if he’s supposed to respond to anything he’ll know. Behind closed eyelids though he sees darkness, and for a brief moment wonders if he was saved after all, or if he gave in and this is that _thing_ raping his mind for his thoughts so that it can move onto his crewmates next. The alarms are shrill again in his ears, the technology registering his sudden panic and alerting whoever it can. Jim’s hand tightens against his cheek and he can feel warm breath against his ear.

“Bones, it’s ok, you’re safe.”

 _But are_ you _?_ He wants to scream it, but his throat’s too dry to comply. Jim keeps repeating his words until Bones believes him. He raises his hand to touch Jim’s trying to take some of the panic out of that voice. The skin on his arm pulls and stings, hot and raw, with what he knows are burns, but his fingertips touch the back of Jim’s hand and he’s surprised how much comfort he takes from the feel of the familiar skin.

“Do you remember what happened?”

Jim’s voice is soft, a tone Bones has heard him use to calm the most agitated people. He smiles lopsidedly at the irony of it, but he doesn’t answer straightaway. He knows what it was like being where he was, but he doesn’t know how he got there, or how he got back here.

Jim sighs at his silence. “You hit the deck as soon as we materialized on the planet. We beamed straight back up here but couldn’t find any reason as to why you were unconscious. Then the biobed sensors started to pick up changes, as though you were responding to outside stimuli. Spock tried to get some feel of what was happening, but all he could pick up was fire. His best guess was that it might be influenced by the planet, or something on it, so we warped out.” Jim pauses, his thumb rubbing gently against Bones’ fingers where they rest on his.

“We almost stopped and turned round when your nose started bleeding. Then the burns appeared and I was ready to slam on the breaks until you looked like you were coming around.”

Jim’s fear is easy to read, and his fingers tighten around Jim’s hand. He blinks rapidly to bring Jim into focus. “Don’t go back there.” His voice is scratchy and quiet. “That’s what it wants.”

“We won’t,” Jim replies, determined. Bones can hear the relief in his voice. “What was it?”

Bones sighs and closes his eyes again against the dull ache behind them. “Don’t know.” _The Devil_ , his mind supplies, but he believes that was just the deep seated horror that it sought from his own mind to use against him. “But it was in my head. Wanted everyone else’s minds to feed off too. Was going to use the strength it gained from us to leave.”

Jim’s hand tightens against his cheek slightly before slipping away to rest against his shoulder. “It’s ok, we’re away from there now. We’re not going back. I’ll make sure Starfleet know to keep ships away.”

He nods slightly in relief. Jim’s lips feel cool against his temple when he leans in and presses a kiss to his heated skin. “I’m not letting you off this ship ever again,” he whispers.

Bones smiles slightly. “If you stay too, I can live with that,” he replies, voice hushed under the comfort the thought gives him.


End file.
